


A Hart and Her Lion

by j_espere



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 07:15:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3479162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_espere/pseuds/j_espere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of moments between the Inquisitor and her Commander</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Herald's Fall

Arwen couldn't have been sure exactly when she gained consciousness, as she had taken it for granted that she was dead. It held an allure for certain, a release from the contract the mark on her left hand had bound her to. As she flew through the air she did feel a twinge of regret that she had not told anyone to bury her and plant a tree of her remains in the Dalish tradition. 

But now, as she was coming to, a flood of memory came back to her; screaming, fire, unable to find a way inside in time, and that horrific stomach dropping realization, death. _What good is it to be the Herald of Andraste if I can’t save her followers!?!_

When Arwen realized the pain she felt was also physical, she knew she had to still be alive. Each breath sent shooting pain through her side and her head throbbed. Corepheyus had most definitely tore a muscle in her shoulder when he dragged her upwards by the wrist, and she had landed on her ankle in a very uncomfortable way before the mountain fell on her.

When Arwen finally managed to stop seeing stars, she dragged herself to her feet, and then instantly vomited onto the floor of the cavern. She was certain now she had at least one broken rib, possibly two, but her ankle - while sore - could hold a fair amount of her weight.

When she spotted a tunnel in front of her, snaking deep into the mountain, her stomach dropped at the prospect of making it out of here alive. While she had no death wish, she was tired, so utterly exhausted, and she had failed. She couldn't save the innocent lives she heard end because of her incompetence, she didn't even know if anyone had managed to make it out alive at all.

Arwen then noticed the green flicker of the mark, silently reminding her that despite the fact she was only eighteen, only an elf, only a keeper's apprentice, she was the only one who could close Fade Rifts, the only one who stabilized the Breach in the sky, the only one who could save Thedas.

Arwen braced her arm against her chest, and tried to focus on the pain that hurt the least in her body, a small gash on her arm that slightly stung, as she stumbled forward through the darkness.

 

When she finally reached the open mountain she nearly gave up again, the cold winds stung her face, the tears she had been repressing were threatened by how it made her eyes water. Once again, the mark flickered, a silent reminder, a sickly green encouragement. That she had something good in her left to give. She continued on.

 

She couldn’t know how long she had been shuffling through the snow, but she could no longer feel her toes - her leather boots soaked through - when she spotted an empty campsite in the distance, fire still lit. Hardly able to believe her luck, she shuffled forward as fast as she could, eager to warm her cracked and frozen hands for just a moment. All her luck for the day had been used on her miracle survival however, and as she reached the campfire it went out. Arwen could no longer hold in her tears, she let out a cry of anguish that was lost in the wind.

 

She could not go on for much longer. Every step she fought against the snow, and each victory got harder. Her feet felt like lead and her ankle screamed on every movement. Her breaths, although shallow, sent jolts of pain through her body. The world hardly stayed straight for her anymore, and she could hardly stay upward. The mark glowed fiercely now, as if sending off a distress signal, responding to her hope that someone down the mountain might spot her. 

The cold wetness had permeated every layer of armour and clothing she wore and she could not stop shaking. The tears poured freely now that she realized her death was soon, and she would fail them one last time.

It was then she looked up from her feet in front of her and saw it. The camp. Hundreds of balls of light shone out to her. It had to be them. Arwen’s heart leapt and she stumbled forward a few paces before her ankle gave out and she landed painfully on her knee, the impact reverberating through her whole body.

Arwen looked up again, tears blurring her vision, and her stomach dropped. The camp was too far. She'd never make it. _Creators please_ , she begged, _and the shem’s Maker too. Let someone find me and bury me. Plant a tree over me. Maybe in Haven. Let me be remembered by the good I did._

She was murmuring this chant to herself when she heard a familiar voice - her vision was beginning to go black - was that Cullen? Was that vague shape running towards her Cassandra? Or a vision?

She collapsed forward.

 

Once they had set camp for the night Cullen had sat as far away as he could on lookout, and was later joined by a silent Cassandra. He knew it was impossible the Herald had survived. He watched a whole mountain fall on her. But he couldn't help but hope. There was a part of him that thought this impossible girl who'd walked out of the Fade might walk out of this too. 

Visions of her kept swimming through his head; her mischievous grin when she asked him uncomfortable questions, the way she leant on the war table with one hand on her hip while deliberating, the sheer panic in her eyes the first time she was called the Herald of Andraste. 

Cullen was coming close to believing her dead - that vibrant girl with the red hair that shone like the sun, who was so determined and intimidating it was hard to believe her only eighteen - when he spotted a flicker of green.

Was that? It could just be a trick of the eyes, but no there it was again, larger this time. Cullen’s heart leapt. He choked back a cry, surprising himself at his reaction. As he shook Cassandra awake - as she had been nodding for several minutes- he felt a swelling feeling in his heart he had not in a long, long time.

 

They ran towards the flicker of green with the weapons drawn. Cassandra had pointed out that it was possible it was not the Herald, and perhaps an agent of Corpheyus who had taken the marked hand from the Herald to prove her death. Cullen cursed himself for not thinking of that possibility himself, he had let his feelings rule and he would not do it again. 

He tried to kept his thoughts sober, prepared for anything, but his thoughts kept wandering back to her. He saw Arwen Lavallen looking at him across the war table, polishing her small daggers at her desk when he brought her a report, and that one glorious evening he went for a walk by the lake to try to distract his mind from the large quantity of lyrium that had just arrived for the templars and saw her dancing through the trees…and now, as the green glow grew closer…

“It’s her!” Cullen yelled into the wind.

She was kneeling in the snow, and he could see her shaking violently. But she was alive! She collapsed forward and Cullen’s stomach dropped. Cassandra behind him, he ran as fast as he could uphill through the snow.

When he reached Lavallen he rolled her over immediately, quickly taking in her tear stained face, and her murmuring lips, and her still shaking body, proof she was alive. He picked her up quickly, feeling through his gloves how cold she was. 

Cullen’s panicked expression told Cassandra everything as she approached and she began instructing Cullen as quickly as possible as they moved back towards the camp, their precious goods in his hands.

“We need to get her to Mother Giselle. Now. Try not to jostle her too much. We don't know what injuries she has. Try to support her head.” Cassandra’s voice with thick with emotion.

He held the girl tight to his chest, she felt so tiny and delicate in his arms. This close he could hear her mumbling:

“…plant a tree over my body please, please…let me be remembered by the good I have done.”

“Arwen. Arwen! You are not going to die. It’s going to be alright.” Arwen’s eyes open to slits at the sound of a voice in her ear.

“Cullen…” she whispered “Cullen…”

“It’s okay now Arwen.”

“You’ve never called me…Arwen before.”

 

When they finally reached the camp news spread quickly, and by the time they reached Mother Giselle’s tent nearly all of the survivors had spotted the Herald looking broken in the Commander’s arms, and followed them towards the infirmary despite Cassandra’s shouts for the crowd to stay back.

Because of the spread of news, Mother Giselle ushered them quickly away from the infirmary and into her personal tent where she had prepared a coal brazier, warming it. The tent was hardly tall enough for Cullen to stand up straight, and he ducked as he placed Arwen onto the cot. 

“Get her out of her wet clothes immediately. I will find the healer and poultices. Prepare for anything.” Mother Giselle said before ducking out of the tent.

Cassandra immediately got down and pulled off Arwen’s boots. Cullen blanched and looked to follow Mother Giselle out, mumbling about appropriateness.

“I swear to the Maker Cullen if this girl dies because you wanted to be appropriate I will feed you to a demon. Make yourself useful or get out.” Cassandra spoke with so much poison in her voice. He hadn't meant to sound so casual about it, but that was obviously how it came off.

He knelt next to Cassandra, undoing Arwen’s gauntlets as fast as possible. He sat Arwen’s up and Cassandra helped him removed her over coat. As Cassandra moved to unbuckle her leather chest guard, Cullen moved to remove her trousers. He tried to remove his mind as he revealed her snow white limbs, but he couldn't help but notice the dried blood from cuts, her swollen ankle nearly twice the size of the other, and her feet purple with cold.

While Cassandra removed her small clothes, Cullen focused on her feet, he removed his gloves and, minding the ankle, he rubbed her slim feet between his palms. She was as cold as ice, and quickly Cassandra piled blankets on top of Arwen before Cullen could get too distracted by his peripherals.

Solas soon ran in, looking like he elbowed every other mage in the camp out of the way who wished to see the Herald to be by her side. Mother Giselle followed quickly behind with even more blankets and some bandages.

After Solas had a moment with Arwen, he confidently announced that she would make a full recovery, and they need not worry. Cullen left the tent, ridiculously happy, not only because the Inquisition just had a moral boast sent from the Maker himself, but because the delicate girl he had held in his arm who had the weight of the world on her shoulders, would look him one more time in the eyes, with a mischievous smile on her face.


	2. Knight Wanderings

It was their sixth night at Skyhold and Cullen's had awoken in a cold sweat, the lyrium nightmares had grown worse the last few days. Unwilling to attempt sleep, he stumbled out of his tent after pulling his trousers, his loose night shirt blowing in the wind. 

Although they were on a mountain, Cullen always found Skyhold strangely warm, as if ground itself wanted to make Skyhold appealing. 

He wandered the grounds trying to distract himself, eventually entering through the room that had been determined as the kitchen, though it had yet to have any proper equipment or food. He found himself good and lost in the underbelly of skyhold, dusty and dim. This was still an adequate distraction. 

He finally made his way to the gardens, he knew a small shrine to Andraste had been delivered earlier, and set up, a luxury that calmed him. 

He had been praying before Andraste for some time, when he knees began to twitch. He was in peak physical condition and by no means an old man at thirty five, but his body was starting to betray him in little ways, such as the twitch in his knee, he had also noticed that his stomach was not so flat as he was used to. He had made a promise to himself to train the troops more vigorously if only for his own benefit. 

As he stood up with a slight grimace at the protestations of his knee and turned to the doorway he was startled for a moment by a movement in the gardens. 

His hand automatically flexed for the sword that was not there before he realized that only five feet away, back turned to him, was the Inquisitor. 

She was frighteningly quiet, but that he supposed was her Dalish training. Her red hair tumbled down her back as she reached to the sky. Maker, he hasn't realized how long her hair was.  It was strange to see it out of his elaborate braids; it was something he had pondered sometimes, when she turned to leave, how did she have time enough to do it every day?

She was standing barefoot in the dirt and had tucked a bit of elfroot that grew between the cracks in the paving all over skyhold behind her ear. Her night shirt looked like it had been rejected by iron bull, it was so large on her tiny elven frame. He wouldn't be surprised if it was. In the time that Cullen had gotten to know Arwen, her frugality had become prominent. He remembered the first time her party returned from the Hinterlands and a bewildered Cassandra emptied her pockets on the war table, elfroot, a ring, and a letter from a deceased woman to her lover. The inquisitor had simply blinked when Cassandra asked her what was great importance that she carry this back for her.

"I didn't have anymore space in my pack" Arwen had said as she collected each item. 

His heart skipped a beat when she turned to look at him. Her dark green eyes looking straight at him, right through him. Every time his thoughts began to wander, entering a fantasy so lost to him, that they could have met as two normal people and maybe could have had something, he quickly brought himself back, reminding himself that she was only 18, and the Inquisitor. 

For a moment a smile played across her face, and Cullen thought she would invite him to join her in her prayer to her gods. 

The idea passed as Arwen turned fully to him and walked towards him, her arms crossed tight across her chest he realized how thin the material of the shirt was and began to blush. 

"Can't sleep either?" She asked him playfully. 

He shook his head, thinking back to his maddening dreams. 

"I haven't been able to sleep a single night here. Back in Haven I would sneak out into the forest at night and sleep under the trees when it got this bad. But here...all stone...I thought this garden might help but...I'm sorry you don't want to hear about this." 

"Oh, no Inquisitor I do not mind at all."

She smiled at him, with a small amount of wariness. 

"Would you like to...sit for a while?" She motioned to the stone half wall that ran around the overgrown garden. 

She hoped into the wall gracefully. He walked round and sat to her right, noticing her dirt stained feet as she swung them a few inches off the ground. Cullen was more stable, his booted feet planted firmly.

A breeze ran through the air, pushing Arwen a hair about, a section tickling his check for a moment. 

"Will you go back to your clan after all of this?" Cullen asked, something he had wondered previously. 

Arwen sighed.

"It's slightly difficult to see an end that doesn't involve getting eaten by an arch demon...I'm sorry that was dark,"

"You make a fair point" Cullen went to place his hand on the wall beside him, but at the same moment so did arwen.  

There hands met for a moment before they both quickly pulled away. 

Arwen's creamy completion reddening as she hurried to answer. 

"While I like clan life for the most part when I look back at it, I spent most of my time at odds against some opinion or another. I thought we should be less secretive, trade with outsiders more, actually communicate with the powers around us. As far as I understand while progressive, my clan still had to move when tensions became too strained with our neighbours. When I suggest the keeper send someone to the conclave, I had no idea that they would send me. My punishment for questioning the Keeper I suppose.”

Cullen noticed that Arwen had knotted her fingers together in her lap, and a soft glow of that sickly green flickered from her palm.

“If it’s any consolation, I truly have no idea if we could have survived this far without you, no matter the circumstance.”

Arwen turned her head up to met Cullen’s gaze.

“Thank you Cullen.” The small smile that Arwen gave him ran through his head for weeks after.


End file.
